service, part three

parts one & two

More questions on service:

Does service have to be feeding the hungry or clothing the poor to be service? Is it service if I volunteer for or work for a ministry program aimed at, say, education?

This is a question I’m struggling with right now. I’m in the process of launching a ministry website and I would very much like to believe that my time spent developing that site and it’s contents is service. And I think that it is.

However, it’s not hands-on service. I don’t get face-to-face contact with anyone. So there’s a definite element missing. But there’s another element missing, too. I believe that it’s also important for me to be coming into contact with folks who are in genuine need. This is scared ground, serving someone who is in no position to return the favor. Some of the most poignant spiritual experiences of my life have been in these very situations. Often God is uniquely manifest in the one being served—which is quite scriptural given that Jesus says we’re really serving him when we serve someone in need, (Matthew 25:40).

Is it service if I’m just nice to people?

Yes, and at the same time, resoundingly no.

I believe that it makes little sense to invest time, money and effort into feeding the hungry only to treat the people you come in contact with day-to-day poorly. Certainly it could be said that a “servant heart” would have to include the compulsion to be kind to others, even those you aren’t serving at a soup kitchen.

True as this is, being nice to others simply does not fully encompass the concept of service. I’m absolutely sick of the mentality within the church these days that suggests being a disciple really isn’t all that costly. Of course it’s costly. To paraphrase Dietrich Bonhoeffer, salvation cost God the life of his Son—why wouldn’t it cost us something? If Jesus’ service meant washing his disciples’ filthy feet, shouldn’t our service require us to get dirty, too? (And no, holding a door open for someone is not “getting dirty.”)

Service is ultimately about love. If I love Jesus, I should feel compelled to love others. This compulsion should stir within me every time I see or hear about someone who isn’t eating because they don’t have food or is living on the street because they don’t have a home. I’m not naïve. I know there are people out there taking advantage of those who would attempt to live as servants. But I read no passage in the Bible that calls me to meticulously evaluate the genuine need of a stranger who asks me for help while I read several passages instructing me to give the shirt off my back.

And it is love that should compel me to do this.

I have to confess, I don’t have it down. I pass up opportunities to serve and I need to find a program or shelter or soup kitchen or something to volunteer at. Not because it meets the rigorous requirements of God’s law, but because I hate the idea that Jesus is out there, manifest somehow in the form of the needy, and I am comfortably removed from him, denying him help by my inaction. I care about him—I want to help him.

That, I believe, is the heart of service.